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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28461186">The dawn amidst the golden domes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteCloud/pseuds/Elizabeth%20G'>Elizabeth G (WhiteCloud)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dorian Gray (2009)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxious Dorian Gray, Basil teaches Dorian painting!, Dorian loved Basil from the beginning, For Basil Dorian is a beauty god, Hurt/Comfort, Kind Dorian Gray, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Penitent Dorian, Strong Female Characters, Sybil is clever, Victorian, and she’s alive, artists in love, canonically, he visits church!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:54:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,905</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28461186</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteCloud/pseuds/Elizabeth%20G</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian was ready to sell his soul to the devil, not for his own sake though. He wished to regain his beauty forever and in such a way to inspire his beloved artist day after day. Now Dorian deeply repents for his decision. He is in severe mental pain, yet still alive. The quiet life in Basil’s mansion does a lot for his recovery. Following Basil’s advice, Dorian once invites his old friend Sibyl to the mansion. Maybe, she can help him to make the first steps into the outside world.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dorian Gray/Basil Hallward</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The dawn amidst the golden domes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was always strange to see Dorian under the vibrant light, creeping through the stained windows of the church. The touch of orange lay on his hair, but it did nothing to the boy’s paleness. Dorian looked exhausted most of the time, and Basil still couldn’t find a way to change it. </p><p>Those dry eyes glanced at him expectantly. Framed by the curves of swollen lids, they seemed hollow. </p><p>“Shall we go? I feel it might be enough for me today,” Basil approached, keeping his voice quiet, trying not to disturb other believers at the hall.</p><p>Dorian nodded, slowly turning to the front door. They visited this small rural church each Sunday. Their mansion was close and they could return here anytime. So there wasn’t a need to stay for long. </p><p>They made their way through the crowd, not quite touching but keeping each other in sight. The waves of excitement warmed Basil’s heart. He'd been feeling almost happy before that entire idyll should've stopped. Dorian slowed his pace as if abruptly having lost all the vigor. Basil gradually understood why. He had heard the overflow of those wicked gossips. </p><p>“Is it really Lord Gray?”</p><p>“He is not in the capital anymore. And he ignores all the invitations to the balls, even when they come from precisely honorable families.”</p><p>“What a handsome man he was! Look at him now. A shadow of himself.”</p><p>“There had to be some dark influence. What a pity.”</p><p> </p><p>Basil had heard all those cruel comments before, most of them on Dorian’s appearance and completely meaningless. To his surprise, Dorian didn’t think the same. </p><p>He was standing by him now, at their studio, staring at the fresh canvas with absent-minded expression Basil not quite liked. He once again turned to his work— the portrait of a resurrected boy who had braved to free his heart from the spell of Satan. It was the second portrait of Dorian, requested in the minute of anguish. Dorian needed to erase his old self. </p><p>“Is it me? Is it really me?” he muttered shakily, slowly lifting his hands to the pale tired face, pointing the lines of bruises and swollen skin. </p><p>“Maybe I did this one not quite well,” Basil admitted, blaming his lack of skills out of politeness, but actually, he didn’t understand what could be so upsetting in his new masterpiece.</p><p>There was still a lot of Basil in the picture, but the young man from the canvas resembled the real one in almost every detail. They both beamed with magic, which Basil once had been so anxious to find. </p><p>The fleur of the new Dorian was different. It reminded Basil of a dry rose’s mystic beauty, like the one he had in his studio, to mesmerize his eyes each time he was working. Dorian also reminded him of the daffodils, golden and glowing in the jar of thick darkness, swinging under the breaths of warm wind.</p><p>What could be upsetting for Dorian in the charm of changing beauty? He didn’t love the flowers when they were fading, but still, this portrait had an obvious advantage over the previous one, mutilated by the evil spell. It actually looked much better now, kept in the secrecy of their basement. The painted face had merely a few black creaks under its eyes and in the corner of the mouth. It might have been even unnoticed if you didn't have the trained artist’s eye. However, Dorian still couldn’t make himself look at that portrait. There was enough of it in his nightmares, he had said. </p><p> </p><p>Sibyl came to visit them at the mansion, just at the time Dorian had asked her for. Actually, that was Basil’s idea. He hoped that the communication with an old friend might have helped Dorian to feel interest to the outside world again, at least a little bit. To renew the trust for people was a hard task but they had much time for that. After all, they had overcome the difficulties and stayed alive. So now they had forever. </p><p>“Good morning, Prince!” Sibyl greeted him cheerfully, radiant in her bright dress, beaming with excitement.  </p><p>Dorian stood up to kiss her hand, courteously and too obediently, without meeting her eyes. Basil smiled at her apologetically.  </p><p>“Prince, you look gorgeous today, like always,” Sibyl approached once more, far from losing her sparkling enthusiasm, and Dorian grinned bitterly at that. </p><p>She took her seat, still smiling. Basil didn’t see even a hint of hypocrisy in the smooth curve of those lips. He doubted that Sibyl still adored Dorian like before, blindly. But her manners didn’t let her even to suppose that something might have been wrong with his appearance. For her, he would always be a charming prince, whether in health or in illness, young or rapidly aging.  </p><p>“The weather is so inspiring today. I wonder why you’re not working outside, Mr. Hallward.”</p><p>“Miss Vane, it looks like I and Dorian are hermits now, we see the rays of the sun so rarely, indeed. We do enjoy the spring only when go to church on Sundays. Or we can listen to the nightingales while walking in the mansion’s yard before sleep.”</p><p>“It is great anyway. I thought, maybe we could have a picnic in your yard,” Dorian gave her a startled glance, so she hurried to correct herself. “Of course, it won’t be a public dinner, not at all! I would like us to enjoy our meal in isolation, just a few servants at hand. There will be me, Mr. Gray and Mr. Hallward, that’s all. What do you think?”</p><p>Dorian raised his head, turning to Basil with a mute question. The reassuring nod and gentle silence was his answer. Obviously, Basil didn’t want to push him, neither did Sibyl. So Dorian could let himself hold on for a minute and ponder. </p><p>“I appreciate your idea. Thank you, Sibyl,” he decided at last and was surprised to feel the touch of that rare sincere smile, straining his lips and cheeks. </p><p>“I’m so glad,” Sibyl sighed in excitement and winked to Basil almost unnoticeably. “Yet, Prince, you should know, you can change your mind anytime. We won’t be upset, I promise.”</p><p>“I’m honored to have such an attentive friend.”</p><p>She giggled in response before adding suddenly,</p><p>“Maybe we can organize a ball… Or no! Can we make a performance? Three actors will be enough. It’s fun and helps to forget about the infortunes of real life. I love the preparations. Shall we try? I bet you both are wonderful actors!”</p><p>“It’s a pleasure to see you vigorous, Miss Vane,” Basil pointed out tentatively.</p><p>“I’m not sure,” Dorian quietly mused, feeling as if he was sinking deeper and deeper in his armchair. </p><p>“I’m sorry, gentlemen. I didn’t mean to be so persistent. We can start with my idea in summer or at any time you’ll find comfortable. There is no need to hurry. It’s for us only. I love playing Juliet, so maybe Prince—”</p><p>“I beg you to spare me…”</p><p>“Well, well. Prince is in low spirits now, I understand. Shakespeare may be too dramatic. What about Oscar Wilde?”</p><p>“Daffodils make me nauseous,” Dorian murmured into his folded hands. Sibyl didn't show any signs of disappointment but, nonetheless, he ventured to add. “I’m grateful for your diligence, dear Sibyl. Your ideas are good. We may try them sometime soon.”</p><p>“Sure. I’m so pleased to receive your appreciation,” she smiled, and the morning light seemed to be smiling along with her, tangled in those long waves of puffy hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you have a nice time, dear?” Basil said it, and only after a little while he noticed how casually, comfortably the phrase had sounded within the walls of their studio.</p><p>Now it was their studio since Dorian had started to take painting lessons, so they could spend a lot of precious time together, absorbed in art and delighted by each other’s presence. Besides, Basil worried about Dorian much less when had him near.</p><p>Black eyes glanced at him from above the canvas. </p><p>“Thank you, I did. I was feeling nervous in the beginning. But I like Sibyl and I can feel how she cares about me. That’s the most important thing.”</p><p>Basil noticed how he blushed. It would’ve been impossible to imagine Dorian being shy some years ago, to see the gleaming of warm color under those marble cheekbones. But now he was standing before Basil like this, in all his glory, glad to be Basil’s love, best friend, and inspiration. </p><p>“May I look, Dorian?” he asked, pointing at the easel opposite to his own. </p><p>Usually, the answer was a gentle “no”. Dorian felt awkward to share his art, assuming it too imperfect comparing to Basil’s works. Basil was pleased to at least give some recommendations when they were needed, so under his soft guidance Dorian was improving day by day. </p><p>He nodded this time, and Basil came closer, putting a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“I can see the volume. This picture is already magnificent, my friend.”</p><p>Dorian smiled faintly. He mixed yellow and white colors for the petals, and after that he spoke out,</p><p>“I don’t even know why I’ve chosen this subject. I said I couldn't bear daffodils, neither the scent nor the sight.”</p><p>“You transfer on the canvas the things which make you emotional. That’s very good.”</p><p>Basil made a small nod towards the other canvases. Dorian had already practiced a lot, and the last few months his inspiration had been realizing in the pictures of hell, which he was now so anxiously afraid of. He had seen those abstractions in his dreams: thick charcoal background, crossed with sparkles of venomous shades. Basil hoped that painting could free Dorian’s mind from those grotesque illusions. He highly appreciated that sincere art anyway, even not considering its healing effect.  </p><p>“Daffodils, gleaming at night,” Basil commented with agitation. </p><p>“Yes…” Dorian stood still for a moment, then carefully put the brush aside. “So, about Sibyl… I would like to know how you were feeling. She had been in love with me. I think now she understands that I will never belong with her. It makes me so relieved. But what about you, my love?”</p><p>“I feel relieved on that matter, too.”</p><p>“Oh… And she still calls me Prince. I wanted to stop her but then I thought… that word sounded so nice from her mouth. She should've been putting in it so much of her kindness and appreciation. I was pleased with it. But if you were feeling uncomfortable hearing that “Prince”, please, tell me. I will then ask Sibyl to cancel her habit. It will be a pleasure for me as well.”</p><p>“No, Dorian, of course not. I love the way Miss Vane praises you, indeed I do. You are a prince. This word suits you well. I would like to hear it in your address again and again.”</p><p>“Actually, I was going to invite her again on Tuesday. Or should we postpone the meeting? It’s your mansion, dear Basil.”</p><p>“And I will be happy to share it with your friends.”</p><p>Dorian couldn’t hold back a smile at that. He patted his friend’s arm and then came over to the window. Basil noticed how he paused before opening the curtains. But they were opened at last. The sunlight reflected from the church’s golden domes and finally crept inside, filling the studio with its magic dancing sparkles.</p>
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